His Fire, Her Ice
by Ambur
Summary: Molly Hooper finds herself unnerved by the intense, piercing green eyes that seem to follow her around her grandfather's cocktail party. Everywhere she tries to make an escape, she is thwarted by the owner of those green eyes. It would seem Sherlock Holmes either is not aware of the effect that he has on her, or he simply does not care.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is a story that I have been thinking of for a long time...I hope you find it interesting and enjoyable. This is a romance with a bit of intrigue...**

**Thanks for reading it and giving it a shot!**

**PS The time period of this story is about 1930 or so :)**

* * *

Molly Hooper lifted a glass of champagne to her lips as she surveyed the cocktail party. This party had been one of the highlights during the week of high society and her grandfather was known for his opulent parties. She let her eyes dance over the sea of women and their designer dresses as well as the precious gem stones that adorned their necks, wrists, and ears. Beside each and every woman stood a fashionable man, all of whom had an air of confidence and style about them.

She sighed as she took another mouthful of champagne. Why her grandparents insisted that she come to these dreadful parties, she would never understand. She hated everything that they stood for…wealth, wealth, and more wealth. One was only someone of value if one was wealthy in her families' particular social circle and it sickened her stomach.

Molly wet her dry lips and shook her head. She wasn't being fair to her grandfather. He was one of the wealthiest men in all of England, but he was also a kind man. He had not been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had worked very hard to get where he was today. Her grandfather had the mindset that if a man worked hard and had self-respect, then he was no less of a man than he was. However, not everyone who travelled in his circle felt the same way.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes took a glass of wine from the server stand as he entered the banquet hall. His green eyes moved through the throngs of guests seeking his target. He began to move forward when he saw Nathaniel Hooper standing in a small party of his guests, his elegant wife standing dutifully beside him. However, it was the woman standing on the other side of Nathaniel that caught his attention.

She must have felt his eyes on her because she instantly locked her gaze with his. He quickly took a moment to survey her features and found that he was most pleased with what he saw. She was fine boned, with a small narrow nose. She had wide bottomless brown eyes that seemed to have flecks of gold under the chandelier light. Her honey chestnut hair was swept from her neck into a chignon. His eyes moved to take in her figure and found that it was just as pleasing. She was small in stature, delicately formed, with small, but perfectly shaped breasts. Her waist, while slender, was by no means without shape and her hips were gently rounded. She did not have long legs, but her calves were shapely in the high heels that she wore. He found the entire effect of this woman stunning.

Slowly his eyes lifted to meet hers and he let his gaze rest on her face, allowing her to see what she stirred within him in his eyes…desire and want.

Her eyes widened for less than a second before a mask formed over her features. Not only was it a mask, but a frozen mask that seemed to penetrate him with a chill. She blanked him out and looked at him as if she were looking through him, as if he weren't even there. Then she quickly turned her back on him, moving away from Nathaniel.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and watched her as she moved away. Never had he been blanked in his life, especially not by a woman. He gulped the rest of his drink and sat the glass down on the nearby tray as he moved towards Nathaniel.

The elder man happened to turn and see him, smiling warmly when he did. "Ah, Sherlock, come here my boy, how are you this fine evening?" Nathaniel asked holding out his hand to the approaching Sherlock.

"I am well Nathaniel," Sherlock said clasping his hand. "And how about yourself, sir?"

"Splendid," he said boisterously. "Allow me to introduce you to my wife. My dear, this is Sherlock Holmes," he said, as Sherlock bowed his head in greeting. "I should very much like you to meet my granddaughter as well," he said turning to his side and noticing that Molly had moved away. "Oh blast, where is that girl?"

Nathaniel quickly surveyed the crowd and found Molly standing in a small group of guests with a forced polite smile on her face. "Blast that child," Nathaniel said under his breath. "I do so want you to meet her, come with me boy," he said, taking hold of Sherlock's arm.

"Molly dearest," Nathaniel called to her in a patiently affectionate voice. "I have someone that I would like you to meet."

Molly turned with a sincere smile on her face at the sound of her grandfather's voice, but the instant she noticed his companion, the smile froze on her face. The smile fell and she veiled her eyes as she watched their approach.

"Molly, darling, come and meet this young man," Nathaniel said. "You have heard me speak of him. He is Sir Bertram's son," he continued as both men came to stand in front of her. "This is Sherlock Holmes." He turned to regard Sherlock. "And this is my granddaughter, Molly."

Sherlock stared at her with a quirked lip, his eyes seeming to bore into her. "How do you do, Molly?" he asked silkily, her name falling from his tongue like a caress.

Tautly, she returned his gaze and his greeting. "Mr. Holmes," she said softly.

"Sherlock," the younger man repeated. "Call me Sherlock, Molly," he said smiling as he reached out and took her hand in his, pressing his lips gently to her soft skin.

"It's lovely to meet you," Molly said in clipped tones. "But I must see to the other guests." She turned and quickly walked away. She knew her behavior was rude and probably embarrassed her grandfather, but she did not care.

This Sherlock Holmes unnerved her and she did not like the way he looked at her as if she were something that needed to be captured and possessed. She could see the arrogance and haughtiness on him and she wanted nothing to do with it. All she wanted was for the summer break to be over so that she could return to University. It's not that she didn't love her grandparents, she adored them. But she hated the circles that their wealth and status required them to travel in. She looked over the crowded room again and suddenly she became filled with sadness. She wondered if, in this sea of people, if there was anyone genuine or real?

She turned her head and saw her grandfather staring at her with a darkened expression. Sherlock on the other hand was now closed and aloof to her. She felt as if that should comfort her, but it did not. In fact, it unnerved her even more so.

Molly cringed when she heard the shrill voice of her cousin Janine call to her from across the room. "Molly darling," she said as she approached Molly quickly. "You must come and meet the Watson's. John is a doctor," she said as she reached Molly and grabbed the smaller woman's wrist in a vice hold. "I thought that might interest you with your droll little desire to become a nurse."

"A doctor," Molly bit out, trying unsuccessfully to snatch her wrist away as her cousin dragged her across the hall much to the dismay of her grandfather. Molly mouthed an apology at him.

"Now Molly," Janine's obnoxious voice said over the music. "A woman doctor…truly you are so amusing at times," she said as they reached the table where a couple sat with apologetic expression on their faces as they looked mortified for Molly.

Molly looked at the fair haired man as he stood and bowed slightly in greeting. "I am Doctor John Watson and this is my wife," he said gesturing beside him. "Mary Watson."

Janine laughed loudly. "Isn't he polite Molly dearest," she said, her words slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol she had consumed. "This is my little cousin Molly. She's the one I told you about, the one who thinks she going to be a doctor someday."

John smiled and took Molly's hand in his, shaking it in greeting. "How lovely," he said genuinely. "And you are at University now?"

Molly smiled one of the few genuine smiles she had smiled that evening. "Yes, I am in my second year," she said. "It is lovely to meet you both," she said, nodding at his wife.

"Please, sit down and join us," John said, pulling a chair out for her. Molly took it graciously as John took his seat beside his wife.

"Well I'm going to go and mingle," Janine announced loudly, turning and walking away.

_As if anyone bloody cares…_Molly said to herself, cringing inwardly. She turned her attention back to the doctor and his wife. "I believe that you are familiar to me," she said. "You have a private practice do you not? And you teach the lab courses at St. Bart's hospital?"

John nodded. "I do indeed. Have you been in one of my classes?"

Molly shook her head. "No, not yet. I think in my third year that I will be allowed that option."

John looked relieved. "I was hoping that I was not so rude that I did not remember one of my own students," he said laughing softly.

Before Molly could answer him, John's gaze lifted over her head. "Ah, Sherlock," John said jovially. "Come and join us."

Molly's face fell and her body stiffened instantly. She swallowed hard, her mind quickly trying to think up an excuse to move without being rude.

"Why thank you John," Sherlock said, his deep baritone seeming to move over her skin. She fought the need to shiver, keeping her back ram rod straight. "If your lovely guest does not object."

Molly heard the mocking tone in his voice and she turned to look at him with her eyes narrowed. "Not at all Mr. Holmes," she said with insincere sweetness.

His eyes glittered with amusement as he took the seat beside her. Sherlock turned his attention to Mary. "How lovely you look this evening Mrs. Watson," he said, with a wicked glint in his eye.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Behave Sherlock," she said. "You are a guest in someone else's home."

One of Nathaniel's hired servers brought more champagne to the table. Molly gratefully took a glass and began people watching once again. John and Sherlock were engaged in conversation and Molly knew that she should engage Mary, but she dared not for fear that the men would want to join them. It would appear however that the fates were against her, because Sherlock spoke to her anyways.

"So tell me, Molly, "he drawled. "John tells me that you are a student at University?"

She forced herself to put on a polite smile and nodded. "Yes, I am."

"How very interesting," he said as he leaned closer to her. He stared at her with a bemused expression. She could feel her cheeks color. _The bastard was making fun of her_. Probably just like every other bloody man in this room, thinking a woman could be nothing more than something pretty hanging from his arm and had no other use than to spread her legs and pop out an heir.

"I'm glad you find it so, Mr. Holmes," she bit out. "If you will excuse me," she said, starting to stand, but was stopped by his hand coming over hers.

"I think I should like to dance," he said. "Would you do me the honor?"

"I really should see to the guests and…"

"Nonsense," he said standing. "That is why Nathaniel has a paid staff." He held his hand out to her, knowing that she could not refuse without embarrassing her grandfather with her rudeness. Several sets of eyes were already watching the display and it became more interesting to the guests the longer she stalled in taking his hand.

"Sherlock…" John warned.

Molly swallowed down her anger and took his hand, refusing to allow her dislike of this man make her seem ungracious in front of her grandfather's guests.

He led her to the dance floor, pulling her into his arms. He looked down at her with an insufferably smug smirk. She found herself wanting to slap the look right of his face. He must have seen this response in her expression, because his grin widened and his eyes danced wickedly.

"Do you live alone in the city?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," she said as he twirled her in his arms. "I have a flat not far from the University."

"In deed," he said with a raised brow. "Your grandfather allows you to live alone in the city?"

"I am a grown woman," she said coldly. "I can make my own decisions."

"Of course you can," he said with an amused drawl. He swayed her to the music and though she was loathe to admit it, he was an excellent dancer. "So tell me more about yourself," he said.

"What is it you wish to know," she asked, gasping when he tightened his hold on her, pulling her flush against his body.

He shrugged as he held her. "We could start with your interests," he said. "Do you have any interest in the theater?"

Begrudgingly, she answered him. "Yes, I love the theater actually. I saw William Shakespeare's _Hamlet _preformed last weekend at the theater. It was sublime," she said honestly.

"How fortunate that we share the same interests," he said dryly. "Because I was hoping to find a companion for the upcoming showing of _Twelfth Night_, I would be honored if you would accompany me."

"I have already seen it thank you," she said, trying to pull away from him, but he held her in a vice grip.

"And I'm sure you would enjoy seeing it again," he said as his gaze moved over her head. A large grin of satisfaction appeared on his face. "Nathaniel," he called as he spun Molly so that she could see her grandparents joining them on the dance floor. "I was just suggesting to Molly, that she allow me to escort her to the National Theater's performance of the _Twelfth Night_ this coming Saturday."

Nathaniel was positively beaming. "A most excellent idea," he said excitedly. "Capital! Thank you so much for your considerate invitation Sherlock, I am sure that Molly would be delighted to accept." Nathaniel said looking affectionately at Molly. "She's spends so much time with her nose in a book. I keep telling her that a young girl her age needs to get out more and enjoy her life. After all, she's never going to meet any young men keeping to herself."

"You're quite right, I'm sure," Sherlock said. "Then how about it sweet Molly," he purred, causing an involuntary shiver to move down her spine. His lips quirked as he felt her tremble in his arms.

Molly fixed him with a stone cold stare, but knew she could not refuse him. "I would be delighted," she said in a hard voice.

"Would you indeed," he whispered as he stared down into her face with smoldering eyes. The music stopped and he led her back to the table with John and Mary. As she sat down, he kept his hold on her hand. "Until Saturday Molly," he said softly, kissing her hand.

She watched him as he turned and left her sitting at the table.

* * *

**Well guys, what do you think?**

**Hugs and thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**OH MY GOSH! Author blushes! I am SO PLEASED that you guys are digging this...I have been thinking about it forever, but never wrote on it cause I wasn't sure if anyone would be interested in a Regency type Sherolly story! You guys have made my day, week, month, and so on, and especially so close to my birthday! **

**Thanks so much from the bottom of my butt (cause it's bigger than my heart) and you all know you already have my heart! Thanks for your reviews, follows, and faves!**

* * *

Molly looked at the clock above her dresser and frowned. Her fists clenched, her nails leaving small half-moon patterns upon her palms. She had about an hour to make herself ready for this absurd outing that her grandfather insisted that she go on. And what made it even worse for her; it was with a man she didn't like.

She knew her brother would never be forced to do this because he was male. She also knew her grandparents meant well, but it was still disconcerting. Why couldn't they understand that she had desires and dreams of her own? In fact, she had her entire life planned out before her and nowhere did she see becoming a wife and mother. Why couldn't they understand that she did not need a man to take care of her? That she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Her grandparents were in their eighties and they were worried about her after they were gone. Molly understood this, but it did not make the bitter taste that it left in her mouth any easier to swallow. She remembered one particularly painful conversation that she had with her grandmother not that long ago.

_Now your brother isn't going to always be able to look after you, dear. He will have his own wife and children to look after_…

Molly was certain that no one had ever said anything like that to her brother. It was so unfair that in this day and age, women were still treated as they were in the Victorian age.

She stared down at the pale yellow dress that her grandfather had bought her for her outing with Sherlock Holmes. She reached out and traced the delicate patterns of the dress with her finger, sighing deeply. She did not want to do this. She had held very little conversation with Sherlock Holmes and already she knew she detested him.

She remembered with a sneer on her face how the other women at her grandfather's party had all humiliated themselves by openly fawning over this man. Many of these ridiculous and simpering women had dates but still flirted and batted their eye lashes at him. It disgusted her and she wanted nothing to do with it.

She did admit to herself that he was handsome, extremely so. He was tall, pale, and had the most striking eyes. _And his voice…_Her treacherous mind reminded her. She could remember the feel of his large hand wrapping around her wrist. She shuddered at the memory of how his touch had seemed to scorch her skin. The man had literally taken her breath away. She didn't know why, but she felt almost afraid of him…of the power he seemed to command from all those in the room with him.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Yes?" Molly called.

"May I come in child?" her grandfather asked.

"Of course," she said, sitting on the edge of her bed as he came into the room.

He favored her with an affectionate smile that fell slightly when he noticed her state of dress. "Why have you not made yourself ready yet? He asked. "Sherlock will be here soon, child."

Molly swallowed hard and chewed her lip. "Actually grandfather, I'm not feeling very well and I thought that I might stay in tonight with you and grandmother," she said, pleading to him with her eyes.

"What nonsense," he said. "You felt fine an hour ago. You're only nervous. Believe me, Sherlock is a fine young man and you will have a wonderful time, if you allow yourself."

"I don't like him, grandfather," she said in desperation. "I'm sorry but I don't and the only reason why I accepted his invitation is because I didn't want to be rude."

Nathaniel favored her with a stern expression. "It will be rude of you to cancel on such short notice," he said firmly. "Besides, you've barely had any conversation with the young man, how do you know that you dislike him?"

Molly chewed her lip anxiously. "Grandfather, please," she begged. "Couldn't you ring him and tell him…"

"No," he said firmly, interrupting her. "Good heavens girl, he's not going to bite you."

_I wonder…_she thought to herself.

"You hardly ever go out my dear," he continued. "And you are much too young and lovely to spend your days with only your grandparents to keep you company." He walked over to her and took her in his arms, kissing her on her forehead. "Now get dressed and come down stairs."

She watched him go, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Slowly, she got to her feet and began to make herself ready for this man she was determined to despise.

* * *

Molly was startled when her door was shoved open and her cousin Janine made a dramatic entrance. "Molly darling, you had better hurry up. That delicious morsel of man will be here in any moment," she said, plopping down on the bed. "Must you wear your hair in such a severe manner?"

Molly watched as Janine stood again quickly and came to her, taking the clip from her hair before she could stop her. Janine eyed her shrewdly. "There…lovely," she sighed.

"Give me my clip," Molly snapped.

Janine's eyes narrowed. "No," she bit back. She reached out and ran her fingers threw Molly's curls, brushing the soft, silky tresses around her face. "Much softer and very beautiful, dearest cousin, though you try with all of your might to hide your beauty don't you?"

"Janine, give me that blasted clip," she snapped again.

Janine giggled. "Such language from a lady," she said, moving away and back to the bed. "And no, I will not give you the clip. I am so tired of the focus that our grandparents have on getting you married off. They invite the very best young men to all of their parties in the hopes of someone catching your eye. They are so very afraid that you will die a spinster, so much so that they neglect me completely. Unlike you, I have no qualms about marrying an attractive rich man."

"What in the devil does that have to do with me?" Molly snapped.

"Tut tut…" Janine said at Molly's coarse language. "One mustn't forget that one is a lady. And for your information, it has everything to do with you. They are so afraid of dying and you being without protection that it's become their obsession to get you married as soon as possible. Well what about me? I don't have an elder brother to introduce me properly to young men and our grandfather is too busy with you!"

"You've never let that stop you before," Molly said dryly.

"Don't be crass Molly," Janine said. "I have come to ask you a favor."

Molly turned and looked at her cousin with a raised brow. "Oh yes, what favor might that be?"

"I want you to pretend that you like Sherlock, so grandfather will stop worrying so much over you and start introducing me to some of the gorgeous young men he invites to his parties," she said, with her limpid blue eyes open to their widest extent. "Please Molls, be a dear…please? Just for a little while?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible, I simply loathe Sherlock Holmes," Molly said firmly, turning back to the mirror.

"You can't simply _loathe him_," Janine repeated, rolling her eyes. "You don't even know the beautiful man."

"Well why don't you go with him since you seem to be so taken with him?" Molly snapped, tossing her brush down roughly.

Janine smiled a knowing smile and bit her lip. She came to stand behind Molly and wrapped her arms around her. "Because he only has eyes for you Molls, a blind man could see that," she said, giggling. "My God, please don't tell me that you couldn't see how he was looking at you at the party? His eyes followed you everywhere, even when those other ridiculous women were trying to through themselves at his feet."

"I don't want to discuss this," Molly said, pulling away.

Janine sighed. "I never took you for a coward Molls," she said. "Anyways…can't you just be nice to him, for tonight. Maybe grandfather would be put at ease and then I could actually get some male attention. Please Molls…please…" Janine begged, batting her eyelashes playfully at her cousin.

Molly unsuccessfully tried not to smile, but a slow grin crossed her features. "Very well, I'll be nice to him," she promised. "But only for tonight and I absolutely will never go anywhere near him again, do you understand?"

Janine stood and gave her a mock salute before kissing her cheek and stepping from the room. She turned back before she closed the door. "Oh and Molls, you will want to hurry, there is a surprise waiting for you downstairs."

* * *

Molly descended down the stairs twenty minutes later. Despite the reservations and dread she felt towards the evening, she could not deny her curiosity was piqued by this surprise her cousin had mentioned.

"Molly…" a male voice called to her.

Her head snapped up in recognition of the voice and her eyes lit up as she gasped in sheer delight. "Jim," she squealed excitedly upon seeing her elder brother. She broke into a run and leapt into his arms. She was so enthralled at seeing the brother she so dearly loved and missed that she did not see the lone figure standing behind him looking at her with an amused expression.

Jim lifted her from her feet and held her to him. "Hello my sweet little sister," he said laughing.

"Why didn't you write and tell me that you were coming?" she asked as he sat her back down on her feet. She took a moment to look over his features, taking him in, looking to see how he had changed and stayed the same in the year that he had been gone.

"I can see you haven't grown any taller," he teased.

She laughed and threw her arms around him again, her mood shifting from anxiety and dread to one of pure joy. That was until she finally saw who was standing quietly behind her brother. Molly let go of Jim and stepped back as the smile from her face instantly fell.

Sherlock stared at her and for the briefest moment, something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before she could really understand what it was. Jim noted the change in his sister and he looked behind him. "Oh…yes, Sherlock," Jim said. "Come and meet my baby sister."

Sherlock smiled. "I have already had that pleasure Jim," he said coming to stand beside him, both men now looking into Molly's frowning face. "As a matter of fact, I met your charming sister the other evening at your grandfather's cocktail party. It is not coincidence that you and I have run into each other, as I am here to escort your sister to the theater this evening."

Jim's eyes flashed surprise, but to Molly's dismay, it was a welcomed surprise. "Wonderful," Jim said, clapping his hands together. "My childhood friend and my sister. This is most gratifying news indeed."

"I can assure you that it is nothing to get so excited over," she bit out, barely able to keep her voice civil. "I am just accompanying him to see a play…nothing more." She turned her gaze directly on Sherlock; her eyes were hard and cutting.

Sherlock returned her gaze, his already glittering eyes intensifying. Jim looked back and forth between them before turning on his sister. "Molly, that was extremely rude and not at all like the sister than I remember," he said, admonishing her gently.

"The sister you remember no longer exists because I am no longer a child," she said in a hard voice. "And I do not appreciate my own brother, whom I haven't seen in over a year coming home and making assumptions."

Jim reared back slightly from the anger in her voice. "Molly, I am making no assumptions. I am merely stating that I think it's grand to see my best friend and my sister getting to know one another in a social setting. Sherlock is a wonderful man and you are very special to me. I am happy to know that I do not need to concern myself over this as I trust Sherlock with my life, so I know that I can trust him with my sister," he said softly, his face showing his confusion at his sister's anger and unhappiness.

She swallowed hard and looked down. "I am sorry Jim," she said. "You didn't deserve that. I just…I don't like when people take away my right to make my own decisions, as if I am incapable of making them," she said, looking pointedly at Sherlock again.

Sherlock had the decency to look slightly abashed. "I am afraid that I made a poor first impression on your sister, Jim. Her unhappiness is entirely my fault and I hope to rectify the situation by providing her with an enjoyable evening."

Jim's expression lightened. "I am sure that she will enjoy it very much. Molls has always enjoyed the theater," he said looking at her with unveiled affection. "I certainly do not wish to keep you, Sherlock," he added, taking his sister's hand and giving it to Sherlock.

Sherlock's fingers curled slowly and deliberately around her hand. "I won't keep her too late Jim, as I know that you both will have some catching up to do," he said, pulling Molly towards him, keeping his unwavering gaze upon her.

He led her outside and to his car that was waiting for them. Molly could feel his eyes on her and she could not prevent the flush that colored her cheeks. She glanced at him quickly from the corner of her eye and noted that his expression had changed and now his eyes were glinting and mocking.

She tried to wretch her hand from his, but he only tightened his grip and chuckled under his breath. "Truly I do apologize for whatever it is that I have done that has offended you so," he said. "I only wish to enjoy your company this evening and perhaps get to know you better. Can we not at least try to be civil to one another?"

"Alright Mr. Holmes," she said. "I am…" She was cut off as he interrupted her.

"Sherlock," he said. "Call me Sherlock, Molly.

She swallowed hard and prayed that he did not notice the way her body seemed to shiver when he said her name. It simply rolled from his tongue and moved over her skin as a lover's caress might. She cleared her throat as he opened the car door and held it open for her. "Alright Sherlock…she said softly. "Let us try to be civil to one another then."

She climbed into the car and he slid in beside her. She wrapped her arms around herself in a protective manner, her treacherous mind not letting her ignore how close he was to her and how her body seemed to want to turn towards his on its own.

If he noticed her internal struggle, he made no reaction to it at all, but he was not to be denied the pleasure of having her close to him. He scooted even closer to her, his body touching hers. "Now isn't this cozy?" he drawled, his manner completely at ease while there was a tornado tearing through her insides.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and tapped the window with his cane, signaling to the driver that they were ready to go. He turned his head towards her and she could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin. "You look exquisite tonight, Molly," he said, softly. "I am glad that you wore your hair down, such silky loveliness should not be hidden away with clips and bows." He reached out and grasped one of her curls, twirling it around his finger.

She reached up to pull his hand away, but his fingers coiled around her hand. "You have beautiful hands Molly," he said, pulling her hand to his mouth and brushing his lips over her knuckles.

"Th-thank you," she said, barely above a whisper. She looked at him and he could see the apprehension and confusion in her eyes. He suddenly felt the strongest urge to reach out and pull her into his arms. He wanted to soothe her nerves and make her trust him.

He released her hand and placed it back in her lap. "You will enjoy the play tonight," he said conversationally, allowing whatever it was that had just happened between them to pass.

She seemed to be grateful to him for his attempt at lightning the mood. She smiled at him and it was a genuine smile. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sure I will."

He swallowed hard and turned away from her face, trying to ignore how her beauty and gentleness stirred him. He needed to remind himself as to why he was truly here with her tonight. He could not let sentiment get in the way of the goal. Both he and his brother Mycroft has spent too much time to allow this endeavor to fail.

And as much as he hated using this lovely girl beside him, she was in fact the key to everything falling into place.

* * *

**Now you know I couldn't make this love story easy...there just has to be more too it...and so there is :)**

**Hugs and thanks again for reading! Love and appreciate all of you!**

**And yes her brother is the one and only James Moriarty...only Hooper in this, lol!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys! I have to say that some of your reviews had me giggling...you all assume so much about poor Sherlock...perhaps he has his reasons or maybe he is just a cad...only time will tell. If you are familiar with my work, you know that I do adore the drama...**

**Notes: This is about circa 1930 :) and yes, Jim is good in this, he is Jim Hooper, not Moriarty :) It should be noted as well that Sherlock is NOT a detective in this story, he is a business man.**

**And as always, HUGE THANKS, HUGS, KISSES, FLUFFY FAT CATS, AND FAT PUPPIES to you all to show my appreciation for your reviews and comments! Thanks SO much to all of you, it means a lot to have so many supporters out there! I do love all of you!**

* * *

Sherlock was surprised at how much it meant to him that Molly was enjoying herself. She was so taken in by the play that her entire manner had changed. Her body was relaxed and her smile was bright. She didn't even seem to mind how their legs had come into contact a few times.

The Holmes' had their own box within the theater. Though having a private box offered many comforts, it also had its annoyances, as it did at this particular moment. Sherlock despised being interrupted during a performance and he was a bit miffed when he was tapped on the shoulder by a steward. He was handed a note quietly before the steward turned, walking away without a backward glance.

Sherlock's brow rose slightly as he looked down at the letter. He recognized the handwriting instantly. He opened the letter and begin to read whatever it was that his elder brother felt could not wait until the performance was over.

_The plan moves tonight…all parties notified. Make whatever arrangements that need to be made…MH_

Sherlock frowned. _Blast him…_he thought to himself_. Can't he give me this one night to enjoy with her before I have to make her dislike me even more than she already does?_

He couldn't really blame his brother. He knew that Mycroft would not have contacted him had their common enemy not made another move. He sat back in his seat, sliding the note into his pocket. He glanced at Molly from the corner of his eye. She was oblivious to his distress, still completely engaged with the play.

Sherlock sighed deeply and sank further into his seat, trying to block from his mind the heartbreak he was going to cause this sweet, young woman beside him.

* * *

The play had ended with a standing ovation. Molly had sprang from her seat and cheered with wild abandon. Sherlock had stood, but his reaction was much more subdued. He took hold of her elbow gently and led her out of the box and down the stairs. He retrieved her wrap from the coat room and placed it over her shoulders.

Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed from her enjoyment of the evening. She did not seem to mind when he took her hand in his as he walked her to the car waiting for them. The drive back was a quiet one. Molly sat looking out into the night sky, humming softly while Sherlock sat back in his seat with silent brooding.

Once the car had driven them back to the Hooper Estate, Sherlock was quick getting out of the car to open the door for her. He took her hand, which she offered freely, and helped her from the car. He walked her to the door.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," she said softly. He found his response was trapped in his throat along with a surge of emotion that he could not name. He simply smiled and nodded.

Once inside, her grandfather came to meet them. "Ah Sherlock," he said. "I am so glad that you came inside, there is something that I must speak to you about," he said.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, there is something that I need to say to you as well, sir."

"Excellent," Nathaniel said. "Then we are in accord, Sherlock. Molly dearest, make sure you stop in and give your grandmother a kiss before you retire to bed."

"Yes grandfather," she said, kissing him on his cheek.

Sherlock took her hand and kissed it gently. "Until next time, Molly," he said, turning from her to follow her grandfather to the study.

Molly watched Sherlock go, noticing the change that had seemed to come over him. She could not help but feel a sense of foreboding from his manner. He seemed to be weighed down by something that was on his mind, but he had been fine when they first reached the theater. Perhaps the change in him had something to do with the letter that he had received. She bit her lip, knowing she shouldn't do what she was about to do, but she was worried that something was wrong and if it involved her grandfather, then she was determined to know what it was.

* * *

Nathaniel poured himself and Sherlock a glass of scotch. He handed the younger man his drink and sat down in his favorite armchair. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock beat him to the punch.

"Let's not play games Nathaniel," Sherlock said with a glint in his eyes. "I know that you are close to financial ruin. I am offering you a way out without having to be disgraced."

Nathaniel paled considerably. He swallowed hard and tried to recover himself. "What do you know of my finances Sherlock," Nathaniel bit back. "That information is privy only to myself and my solicitor."

Sherlock laughed. "Surely you are not that naïve," he said, taking another mouthful of scotch. "Your solicitor has been on my pay roll this entire time."

Nathaniel's eyes widened in shock as a flash of hurt moved through them. "Sherlock…did you have anything to do with what has happened?"

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "I am sorry, if that makes any difference. I certainly did not mean for you to be affected by this takeover. You were such a dear friend of my father's," he said, sitting the glass down on the stand. "However, I do not see why you should distress yourself so. I will offer you a substantial sum that will take care of all of your debts and keep you and your lovely wife in the lifestyle accustomed to and before you protest with indignation, what choice do you truly have?"

"Why do I feel as if I accept this, I will be making a deal with the devil," Nathaniel asked warily.

Sherlock laughed out loud at this. "I wouldn't say it was quite as bad as all that Nathaniel. I do, however have a price for my generosity," he said, stepping towards the elder man.

"And what would that be?"

"I should think it would be obvious," Sherlock said. "Molly, of course. I will require her hand in marriage if I am to save your family from disgrace."

Nathaniel's face instantly drained of all color. "I will not whore my granddaughter out to the likes of a man like you simply for my own dignity," he snapped. "How dare you sir? Get out of my house at once."

Sherlock favored him with a mocking smile. "You will not be whoring her out. I plan on making an honest woman out of her. I want to marry her. I come from a very good family, our name is well known throughout England. She will be taken care of and protected. She will never want for anything. All she need do is play the part of devoted wife and of course provide me with an heir."

"This is outrageous," Nathaniel roared. "I will not allow her to be used in this way. Get out at once or I will have you thrown out."

"Have a care Nathaniel," Sherlock said in a dangerous voice. "Think about what you are doing. If you refuse me Molly, I will not provide you with the funds you so desperately need. What will happen to your wife? What about your own daughter and her hospital care? Where will you get the money to keep her cared for? You will lose everything Nathaniel…you will be destitute and a broken man. You and wife will starve and die on the streets. And think of Molly, you do not wish to whore her out to me, you say? Well what do you think will happen to her once she is on the street?"

"You are a vile and wicked boy," Nathaniel said, his voice trembling with emotion.

"No, I am a business man and this is a business transaction," Sherlock said. "Nathaniel, I will be good to Molly. No harm will come to her. And you need never worry for money again. I will take care of all of you. Your wife need never leave this home and your daughter will have the best medical care for as long as she lives."

"What does your brother think of your disgusting behavior?" Nathaniel spat.

"Mycroft is the one who pointed out to me what a perfect society wife Molly would make," Sherlock answered. "Were you to contact him, he would not be surprised by what you tell him."

"Your father would be turning over in his grave if he could see what you have become," Nathaniel said, softly.

Sherlock shrugged one shoulder. "Possibly, but he is dead isn't he? He will never know what his son has become," he said coldly.

Nathaniel racked his hand through his silver hair. His shoulders slumped forward from exhaustion. The strain of the situation was evident on his face. He shook his head. "I cannot give you my granddaughter…you must see that it is impossible."

"That is of course your decision," Sherlock said, reaching out to take his coat that had been laid carelessly over a chair. "I will give you twenty four hours to make a final decision. You know where I will be."

"That won't be necessary," A small voice said from the corner of the room.

Nathaniel and Sherlock turned simultaneously to see Molly stepping completely into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Molly, darling," Nathaniel said moving quickly to her. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it," she said. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped shoulder the burden."

"Oh child," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I didn't want to worry you."

She hugged him back before pushing him away gently. She turned her attention to Sherlock. Her gaze was hard and unrelenting. It sent a cold shiver down his spine, but he kept his face neutral. She took a step towards him and squared her shoulders.

He could not help but feel such admiration and respect for her courage and strength. "I will accept your terms Mr. Holmes," she said.

"Molly," Nathaniel said, horrified.

"Hush grandfather," Molly admonished gently. "But know this Mr. Holmes; I loathe you with everything within me. You are a truly disgusting man and once you have your heir, you will never touch me again, do you understand?"

Sherlock smirked. "As you wish," he said. "I will have no trouble finding someone more willing to share my bed. Once you have performed your duty as a Holmes breeder," he said, with a sneer. "You will have the option to move into your own bedroom, should you choose to. But you may find that you do not want to. I can assure you that I am most skilled in the manner of love making."

Molly laughed bitterly. "Love making? Do you even know the meaning of the word love, Mr. Holmes? I doubt it just as I doubt that you have ever made love to a woman in your life," she snapped. "Fucking her yes, but let us not pretend that you are anything more than a cad."

If Nathaniel was shocked by Molly's use of such a filthy word, he did not show it. All that could be seen on his face was his sorrow.

"My, my," Sherlock drawled. "You are a little lioness aren't you? I hope that this fiery temperament will follow you into our marriage bed."

Molly's body trembled with her fury, her fists clenching and unclenching. But underneath her fury was a cold fear of this man that she hoped he could not see within her eyes. He stared at her, his green eyes appraising her shrewdly. She saw something that she could not name flash quickly within his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone.

Sherlock took his coat and laid it over his arm. "I shall of course insist that we marry immediately, the sooner that you have my name the better," he said. "And of course, I look forward to having you in my bed."

"Do not be disgusting Sherlock," Nathaniel spat. "I will not have you disrespecting my granddaughter in such a way."

"Forgive me, you are correct. That was most un couth of me to say such a thing," he said mockingly. "I will give my young wife all the respect that she deserves…and much more…"

Molly tried not to shudder at the veiled threat in his words. Sherlock allowed his eyes to sweep over her once more, his gaze lingering over certain parts of her anatomy a little longer than polite society would never allow. When his eyes rose to meet her, there was a meeting of fire and ice. He chuckled softly as he bid them both farewell and left the room.

The moment he was gone, Molly allowed herself to feel the emotions she was desperately trying to hide from Sherlock in order to keep up a brave vibrato for her grandfather's shake. Her hands began to tremble as the rest of her body. She swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes.

"I will never allow this to happen, Molly," Nathaniel said, pulling her into his arms. "We will think of something…I will find another way. I will never give you to that wretched man."

"There is no other way," Molly whispered. "You heard what he said. We need his money grandfather. What will happen to us without it? We can't allow mother to end up in some horrible sanitarium…it would destroy her and she would be so frightened. And what about grandmother and Janine? Janine has no one else to look after her. And Jim…he can't be burdened with this. He has only just begun to establish himself and if our family were financially ruined, he'd never have a chance." She turned in his arms to look at him. "This is the only way and you know this. I have to do this."

* * *

The black car pulled to the curb and the back door was opened. Sherlock climbed in and closed the door as it pulled away.

"Am I to offer congratulations?" Mycroft drawled lazily.

"She stood outside the door and heard the entire conversation," Sherlock said. "As I thought she would. She came inside and accepted my offer for her grandfather."

"Excellent," Mycroft said. "Splendid, then congratulations."

Sherlock frowned. "For what? She bloody hates me," he said softly.

Mycroft sighed. "For now she does because she does not understand," he said. "But once we have destroyed the threat to her grandfather and the others, I do not foresee her still loathing you."

"She will still be angry," Sherlock argued. "How could she not be? She is a very clever girl with an enormous amount of courage and strength, she will be angry that she was kept in the dark and not a partner in this."

"It is vital that she believe you to be the fiend that she thinks you are now," Mycroft insisted. "Charles will have spies everywhere. If this is to be successful, he must believe that you are as treacherous, diabolical, and wicked as he is. Forcing her to marry you would be more proof of this, especially since he believes that you are the reason for her grandfather's financial woos. He will think you caused the collapse of Nathaniel's business so that you would have a reason to have him in your debt. And what better way than to offer him financial absolution in exchange for his granddaughter. Is it diabolical Sherlock and a man like Charles will simply find it divine."

* * *

**So there you go...hope your interest is still picqued! Hugs and love!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all! Thanks again for all of your revies, follows, and interests in this story! I appreciate you all!**

**WARNING:** This chapter...yikes...okay, it is brutal, cruel, and emtional...you all will see exactly what kind of man Charles is and his associates. You will probably be upset...but PLEASE, hang on just a little while longer and trust me, okay...

* * *

It had been six weeks since that fateful night, where Molly had learned the true circumstances of her grandfather's finances and what it would cost her to save her family. Sherlock had agreed to a time of courting, so as not to cause any speculation or gossip into Molly's character. She had been forced to endure his company on many social occasions, playing the happy bride to be, and it was only by the love of her grandparents and brother that she had been able to bear it.

Much to Molly's surprise and delight, Janine had been a rock of support. She knew the circumstances of Molly's marriage and had cried, begging her cousin to not trap herself in a loveless marriage with a cruel man. But like Molly, she saw no other way to save her grandparents and aunt from a cruel fate.

Janine had unfortunately not been able to escape being forced into the situation as well. She had the unfortunate luck to be introduced to one of Sherlock's friends. Sir Henry Knight had taken an instant fancy to her. He had made his intentions known and had begun his pursual of her. He was as vile and ruthless a business man as Sherlock and she had tried to dissuade his interest in her, purposely drinking and being obnoxious and unruly at parties.

Sherlock and Henry had both scoffed at these attempts and had made public jokes that all Janine needed was a firm hand and she would be the lady that everyone expected of her. Henry had even taken it a step further and had announced at a dinner party one evening, in front of all of Sherlock's horrid business partners that the first thing he intended to do when Janine became his wife was to put her over his knee and give her the spanking she so sorely needed.

Several of his and Sherlock's disgusting friends had begged him to do it right then and there, just for sport, saying the embarrassment would be good for Janine to learn her place in a man's world. It was Molly, who had not been able to endure their disgusting antics that had stood and stunned all of them by shouting them all down and taking her crying and mortified cousin from the room. Sherlock had said nothing, only watched with an unreadable expression.

Now it was Molly's wedding day and it took every ounce of strength that she had to not run screaming from the cathedral. Only the fact that her brother and grandfather were with her made it bearable. Jim had no idea of the circumstances to his sister's decision to marry his long time friend. And even though he was a bit skeptic as to the reason that she gave, he was still thrilled that she was marrying Sherlock. He had no idea what a heartless monster his friend was and her grandfather felt it best not to burden him with it, since Jim had so much going on within his own life at the moment.

"Are you ready child?" Nathaniel asked softly, holding onto her arm.

She attempted to put on a brave face, unable to stand the look of helpless pain on her grandfather's face. "Yes, I am," she said. "We will get through this grandfather and we will find away to get out from under the Holmes' brothers."

He nodded and smiled sadly. "I am sure that you are right." The doors to the sanctuary were pushed open and the massive pipe organ began to play. Janine looked back at Molly, fighting tears before she began her march down the aisle. The next to follow Janine had been a child hood friend of Molly's.

Irene looked back at Molly with a look of anxiety. She did not believe for one moment that Molly wanted this marriage and she had rushed back to London upon receiving the letter from her friend announcing her engagement. Irene frowned, looking back into the sanctuary before beginning her walk down the aisle.

Next, it was Molly's turn. She and her grandfather waited for the appropriate musical piece to begin. Molly took the first step into the sanctuary, trying to be strong for her grandfather. He walked her down the aisle as the guests gasped at the beauty of Molly's dress and veil. Molly's face was hard as flint, but she had never been more determined in her life. She would do anything to protect her family and she knew that somehow, she would survive this.

Once she reached the groom and vicar, her grandfather hesitated a moment before placing her hand in Sherlock's. The two men looked at one another and there seemed to be something that was passing between them, within their eyes. It was not hostile or aggressive and Molly found that she did not understand it at all. Slowly, Nathaniel placed her hand in Sherlock's.

"Who gives this woman to this man in holy matrimony?" The Vicar asked.

Nathaniel once again looked at Sherlock with that strange expression before answering softly. "I do."

The rest of the ceremony seemed to pass by in a blur. Molly barely heard what was said. She realized that she had been asked a question when she felt the Vicar's eyes on her. She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Vicar," she said barely above a whisper.

"Do you Molly Louise Hooper take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" he repeated smiling gently, mistaking her silence for nerves.

Molly opened her mouth to answer, but found her throat so dry she could barely speak. Her heart pounded in her chest and she attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. Sherlock squeezed her hand, not tightly, but gently, almost as if he was offering support. She looked at him and he stared at her with gentle eyes. It shocked her momentarily, but she quickly regained her senses. She looked at the Vicar and nodded, speaking with a strength that the she did not think she possessed. "I do," she said.

The Vicar smiled happily and took both Sherlock and Molly's hand in his. He said a blessing over them and their marriage and pronounced the final words…that they be man and wife, never to part until death. "You may take your bride in your arms and kiss her," the Vicar said warmly.

Sherlock turned to her. His eyes were smoldering and glittering under the soft lights. He reached out and took hold of her gently and pulled her into his arms. Slowly, his head descended and he pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle, chaste kiss.

The congregation stood and clapped. The Vicar held his hands out. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, on this most joyous occasion, Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes."

Molly cringed inwardly. She was now Mrs. Sherlock Holmes…_not Molly…_she wasn't even allowed her own name in the sight of the law. In the eyes of the church and the law, she was nothing more than this man's property and he could do with her what he wished. She was at the mercy of this man standing beside her and she had to force herself to remember those that needed her to keep from weeping. Sherlock walked her down the aisle and part of her was glad that he was beside her. She was in such despair that she was not sure that she could hold herself up under her own strength.

The reception hall was full of hundreds of prominent guests, friends, and relatives. Molly was barely aware of anything and was thankful that Sherlock did most of the talking for her.

She was simply going through the motions, accepting people's congratulations and being the proper society bride. She danced with her grandfather and her brother. It was more difficult to put on a show for her brother, but she dared not break his heart by telling him what a fiend his best friend was.

When it was time to dance with her husband, she followed his lead onto the ballroom floor. She laid her head against his shoulder, not wanting to look into his cold, green eyes. He held her tightly against him, moving her with expertise across the dance floor. Several of the guests clapped and cheered before joining them on the floor.

Molly looked up and saw her cousin, miserable, in the arms of Henry Knight. Irene danced with Jim and she stared at Molly with her shrewd blue eyes. Molly could see the concern within her friend's eyes. She turned her face away afraid that seeing Irene so worried for her would make her cry. She just wanted this day to be over.

"Sherlock," Molly said, forcing herself to look at him. "I am tired, can we go please?"

"Yes, of course," he said, surprising her that he would agree to it. "It has been a long day hasn't it? I am sure that our guests would understand. But you have one last task to complete as a new bride."

She blinked, looking at him with a blank and exhausted expression. "You must throw your bouquet, Molly," he said.

"Oh, yes," she said in a monotone. "Of course."

"Ladies and gentleman, my wife wishes that we should begin our honeymoon without delay," he announced loudly. Molly cringed at the implications of his words, but said nothing. "If all the single ladies will form a circle in the middle of the room, she will toss the bouquet."

The room began to bustle as several young giggling girls moved to the middle of the room. Molly looked around the room and found Janine and Irene standing at the banquet table together. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Henry Knight approach Janine and forcefully take her to the where the other girls stood. Irene followed silently behind them and Molly knew it was only to show support to Janine.

Molly moved to stand in front of them as Sherlock handed her the bouquet. She turned her back to them and sighed. With a quick jerk of her arm, she tossed the roses behind her and moved quickly out of the way to avoid being trampled.

She heard the disappointed sighs and whines of the girls behind her as she turned to look and she who had caught it. Molly's eyes widened as she met the tormented eyes of Janine, who had caught the flowers. She watched as Henry made his way towards Janine with a lecherous look on his face. He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. She tried to pull free, but he was too strong for her.

Henry dragged Janine over to where Sherlock and Molly stood. "Looks like another wedding is in the air, eh, Sherlock?" Henry asked, kissing Janine on the cheek. "I've heard these Hooper women are quite the prize."

Sherlock smirked. "Indeed, I doubt you would find a better breeding mare in this hall, Henry."

Molly refused to respond to such a disgusting remark while Janine gasped as tears filled her eyes. Henry sighed. "He was just teasing you Janine," he said. "Can't you take a joke?" He looked at Molly and smiled. "Although I suppose you plan of giving this one a ride tonight, Sherlock."

"Indeed," Sherlock agreed. "I have to make sure that I actually get what I paid for."

Molly's eyes filled with tears then, but she said nothing. Before she or Janine could react, a man approached them.

"Sherlock," Charles said silkily. "Allow me to offer my congratulations on such a fine purchase," he said leering at Molly. "She is a delicious little thing…absolutely fuckable. Should you ever tire of her, I would love to put those delicate little ankles over my shoulders."

Henry and Sherlock laughed and shook their heads. "Surely you have enough women to fuck," Henry remarked.

Charles shrugged. "One can never have too many whores," he said turning his attention to Janine. "And that is all they are you know," he added, with disgust. "Whore, bitches in heat, useless pathetic creatures, that's what females are. All they are good for is producing a son, beyond that they are nothing but a tight wet hole to fill. They are on this Earth simply to provide men pleasure and to obey us." He took a step closer to Molly. "This one has fire in her, Sherlock, you chose well," he said. "I can see that you will enjoy breaking her in. Should you need any extra canes or whips, please feel free to drop by my home."

"Thank you, Charles," Sherlock said. "But I have enough of my own instruments of correction. I am sure that I have something to discipline a naughty wife with."

"You should fuck her ass first, Sherlock," Charles said. "That will put her in her place instantly. Then string her up and give her gorgeous bottom about twenty five lashes with the cane. That will douse out any desire for disobedience."

Suddenly, Molly felt Sherlock's hand clench against her back. She turned her head and saw his right fist, which hung by his side was in a tight fist, the veins in his hand pumping blood furiously. She glanced up at him and though he was smiling, laughing, and agreeing with what Charles was saying, his eyes were dangerous and dark.

Molly glanced at Henry, who stood behind Charles. He was also smiling, but the muscle in his jaw was twitching. She looked down at his hands; both were curled into tight fists. Janie, who was too distraught, did not seem to notice.

"If you will excuse us," Henry finally said, taking hold of Janine. "I think I shall make my intentions known to Janine's grandfather."

Charles nodded, looking Janine over. "Make sure you get a fair price, Henry."

Henry smiled, though the smile did not reach his eyes. He turned, pulling Janine behind him. Charles turned back to Sherlock. "I suppose I'll leave you now. "I'm sure you want to break this one in as soon as possible. Make sure to show her who is master, Sherlock. If you are gentle with her when you break her cherry, she will expect gentleness from you always and then she will think that she can have her own way. Begin her introduction into womanhood with a good, violent fucking. You are the man and she is little more than your pet."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you for your advice, Sir Charles," he said. "I am sure that I will take into consideration all that you have suggested."

Charles gave Molly one more contemptuous leer before turning and walking away. Sherlock took hold of her arm. "Go and say your goodbyes. Tonight you begin a new life and your new duty as my wife," he said. "And all that it will entail."

* * *

**Thanks again for reading and please don't kill me! Hugs and appreciation to all of you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi ladies...I'm back again with another chapter. I want to say thanks to all of you for reading this! Thanks for your lovely reviews and follows!**

**I hope the Easter Bunny left each and everyone of you your own chocolate Benny Cumberbunny :)**

**Warnings; None really...violence that doesn't get to happen :)**

* * *

The car ride to the Holmes estate was silent and tense. Sherlock could see that Molly was trying not to show any emotion. She sat as far away from him as she could in the car, her legs clamped tight, and her arms wrapped around her. He longed to reach out and take her hand, to let her know that she had nothing to be afraid of, but he couldn't without making her suspicious.

The car pulled up to the gate and the guard opened the it, allowing the car to pull forward. The car moved slowly down the long drive way that led to the house. The car pulled to a stop and Sherlock got out quickly, moving to the other side to open the door for Molly. He held his hand out to her, but she did not take it. He could see the emotions dance across her face as she struggled to remain indifferent to him.

Sherlock made the decision for her, taking hold of her arm, he pulled her gently from the car escorting her into her new home. Once inside, Molly and Sherlock were met by a kindly looking older woman and a very pristine looking man.

"This is Mrs. Hudson, Molly," Sherlock said. "She is my housekeeper and this is Leonard, my valet, butler, and anything and everything else that I might need him for. He wears many different hats as you will come to see."

Molly favored Mrs. Hudson and Leonard with a small, polite smile.

"Oh," Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "What a lovely girl your wife is, Sherlock."

Molly blinked and looked at the elderly woman with a strange expression. She had never heard anyone in service refer to their employer by their first name before.

"Mrs. Hudson, would you be so good as to prepare a light supper for Molly and bring it up to her room?" he asked. "I am sure that she is very tired from today's festivities. I will show her to her room while you do this."

"She will not be sharing your room?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

Molly's face turned crimson and she looked down, trying to keep her tears at bay. Sherlock, seeing her distress answered quickly. "The circumstances of our marriage are rather difficult, Mrs. Hudson," he said. "My wife needs time to get to know me better and get more comfortable with her new home. I am sure that you understand."

Mrs. Hudson looked at Molly with a kindly expression. "Of course I do, dear. Which room will be Mrs. Holmes'?"

"The Dogwood room," he said, taking hold of Molly's arm gently and pulling her towards the stairs. They climbed the stairs in silence and walked down the hall. "This is my bedroom, Molly," he said gesturing to the door on the left. "And this one will be yours for as long as you need," he added, gesturing to the door on the right. "Mrs. Hudson's room is downstairs, but should you ever need her, all you need do is pull the bell."

He opened the door for her and she walked in ahead of him. He came in behind her, leaving the door open.

"It's a beautiful room," she said softly.

"It was my mother's," he said just as soft. "She would be happy that you find it so."

She turned and regarded him with an unreadable expression. "I should like to visit my grandfather tomorrow."

"I am afraid that is out of the question," he said. "We are supposed to be on our honeymoon. How would it look if my wife were to run back home to her grandparents one day after her marriage to me?"

The tears welled in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. She turned away quickly. "Please go away, I'm very tired."

She did not see him take a step towards her with an outstretched hand. He longed to offer her some kind of comfort. He wanted to hold her. He would have given anything to be able to give her even one word of comfort, to let her know somehow that this was not what she thought it was. That soon, this would all be over and everything would be alright again. He sighed deeply as he hand fell to his side.

"Be at peace, Molly," Sherlock said. "I won't come to you tonight. Rest well."

* * *

Jim poured himself a scotch and turned to look at the men in front of him. He had received a message from Sherlock to come to the Holmes estate as soon as possible. Jim had thought it odd since Sherlock had just married Molly and should be getting ready for their honeymoon.

He arrived around eleven pm and was shown into the study. He was met by his grandfather, Sherlock, Dr. John Watson, and Henry Knight. He listened attentively as Sherlock regaled an incredible story to him about a man named Sir Charles Magnusseen.

"So, this Charles thinks that we lost our money in a hostile takeover?" Jim asked, trying to understand.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Mycroft had it look as if I had swindled your grandfather out of his family money and his business. Nathaniel's money has been hidden in one of my brother's foreign bank accounts."

Jim nodded. "And the money we have now is supposedly money that you have given us for the price of my sister, is that correct?"

Sherlock winced at how Jim had put it. Jim noticed his discomfort and looked at Sherlock with a hard expression. "Well how else was I supposed to word it, Sherlock? You've essentially bought my baby sister," he snapped before turning to look at Nathaniel. "I don't like that you've involved Molly in this, grandfather," Jim said.

Jim looked back at Sherlock. "And it's no offense to you, Sherlock. I would love for my sister to be your wife, but not under these circumstances. Not when she fears what's going to happen to her." Jim looked at Henry. "And I don't like my cousin being frightened to death either," he said.

"I would never harm Janine," Henry said quickly.

"I know that, Henry," Jim said. "You're a good man and she would do well to marry a man like you. But as it stands, you are pretending to be one of the vilest men that I have ever come in contact with and Janine is horrified by you."

"There was no other way," Sherlock said. "Charles would never allow us into his circle if he did not believe that we were just like him. Jim, Henry and I aren't going to hurt Molly or Janine and we won't let anyone else hurt them."

"But you are hurting them," Jim argued. "My God, my sister is already so against marriage and being forced to lose her identity to her husband…this is only going to confirm her fears." Jim turned to Nathanial. "Surely you see this, grandfather."

"Molly is a strong girl," Nathanial said. "She will survive this and she will be fine, my boy, try not to worry so for her. And Janine, she is a silly, sweet, little thing, but when pushed, she has shown admirable strength of character also."

Jim nodded, but his expressions showed that he did not like this situation in the least. "What about Molly's dreams of becoming a doctor? I suppose you plan on putting an end to that during this charade?"

Sherlock turned to John. "What will happen if I force her to leave University?"

John sighed. "It will be difficult to get her readmitted. And it is possible that she might have to repeat a few courses. The odds are already staked against her becoming a doctor because she is a woman and people are just waiting for her to fail," he said grimly. "But it should not be impossible to get her back in, difficult, but not impossible."

"She's going to hate you even more if you do this, Sherlock," Jim warned.

"I know," Sherlock said quietly. "I only hope that in the end, she will understand and forgive me."

Jim shook his head. "I don't understand any of this," he said raking his hand through his dark hair. "Why do you even need Molly and Janine in this? You told me that Mycroft is working on making a case against this Charles, in order to prove that he is guilty of black mail and fraud, is that correct?"

"Yes," Nathanial said. "Sherlock, Mycroft, and Henry have infiltrated his circle of friends. This is bigger than you could imagine Jim. Charles has other men of important positions in this disgusting thing with him. We all must tread carefully if we are to bring him down."

"But that does not explain why Molly and Janine have to be a part of this," Jim said.

"My brother has heard whispers of Sir Charles owning certain types of houses throughout England and Europe. Women have been allegedly taken against their wills, given drugs, and forced into prostitution," Sherlock said. "His is a wicked, disgusting man who hates and abuses women. Molly and Janine were necessary for Henry and I to prove that we hold the same ideas of women as he does."

Jim sighed. "How close are you to bringing this fiend down?"

"We are close, Jim, very close," Sherlock said. "But Mycroft does not yet have all he needs to bring a case against him."

"Is there anything that I can do to help?" Jim asked.

"I suppose you could come into this deception with us," Sherlock said. "It would prove most delightful to Charles if he were to think Nathaniel's' own grandson knew of the takeover and was for it."

"Alright," Jim said. "I guess I can do that."

Henry looked at him intently. "Do you have a woman?"

Jim frowned. "Do I need one?"

"It might prove helpful," Henry suggested. "To be more convincing."

A slow grin spread across Jim's face. "Actually, I know of a woman who could be trusted to be brought into this. She is as competent and capable of any business man that I know. And she is not easily upset. I am sure that she would have no issues playing the part of an abused and bullied woman if it meant bringing down a tyrant," Jim said. "And I am sure that my sister would find comfort in having her here."

Nathaniel smiled knowingly. "You are speaking of Ms. Irene Adler, are you not?"

Jim smiled and finished off his scotch. "Indeed I am, grandfather."

* * *

Molly sat quietly at the dining room table across from Sherlock, who currently had his nose in the newspaper. Mrs. Hudson came into the room bringing breakfast on silver trays. Leonard followed behind her with coffee and tea.

Mrs. Hudson went about setting out the food which consisted of bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, and jam. She prepared a plate for Molly, sitting in front of her. "Here you are dear," she said. "Try to eat all of it. You're much too thin."

"Thank you," Molly said softly.

Mrs. Hudson sat a plate in front of Sherlock and snatched the newspaper away from him. "Sherlock, it's very rude to read the paper at the breakfast table, dear."

Sherlock scowled at her, but said nothing. "Coffee or tea, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked Molly.

"Coffee is fine," Molly said and Mrs. Hudson poured her a cup.

Sherlock glanced at Molly and shifted in his seat nervously. He did not look forward to bringing this up with her. "Molly," he said. "There is something in which I must discuss with you."

"Yes, what is it?" she asked with a tinge of anxiety within her voice.

"I have had you withdrawn from University," he said. "You will not be going back at the end of summer."

"But you can't!" Molly shouted, standing from the table. "I have worked so hard and only have two more years!"

Sherlock regarded her with a bored expression. "You are my wife, Molly, and more importantly, a Holmes wife," he said. "And as such you will have duties to attend to as a Holmes wife. Besides, it would be a complete waste of time for you to finish school when you will never be a doctor, nor will you ever hold a job. A woman's place is in the home."

Molly felt as if she might faint. She had worked so hard, overcome so many things to get as far as she had gotten. And now, on the word of this man, her dream, her life was over. Angry tears stung her eyes as he stared at her with an impassive face.

"Spare me a temper tantrum, Molly," he said lazily. "I know it is in a woman's nature to act so childishly, but I can assure you that it won't work on me. You will never set your foot in the University again. I suggest you come to grips with it and accept it."

"I hate you," she whispered.

He smiled. "I am sure that you do," he said. "Molly, this doesn't have to be an unpleasant arrangement. I will take care of you; give you anything that you could ever want. I am not trying to suffocate you. You can do anything that you wish, except work. If you want to volunteer with Dr. Watson then…"

She wiped at her eyes and interrupted him. "You would allow that," she asked, still trembling with anger.

"If it would amuse you, by all means," he said. "He's always been a bit of a bleeding heart. He takes his Hippocratic Oath quite seriously. He goes to the most repulsive places, but I trust that he can oversee you safely."

She stared at him, trying not to choke on her anger as her mind replayed his words repeatedly. He had just destroyed her one and only dream at being happy and fulfilled, but he did not refuse her a chance to still work within the medical field. It made no sense to her. Was he trying to be cruel or was he only a man of the times? And if he were trying to be cruel, then why would he allow her this outlet. She remembered last night at their wedding, how awfully he spoke to her and his barely veiled threats. But now, it seemed as if she were talking almost to a different man "Why would you allow this," she asked.

"Because we are married, Molly, till death do us part," he answered her. "And I know that you hate me, but that does not mean that I do not want peace in my house. If I can give you this after all that I have taken from you, then I am more than willing to do so."

"Does John Watson know what a horrible man you are?" Molly asked.

"John sees what he chooses to see," he replied coolly. "And he will be stopping by today should you wish to discuss offering him your assistance. I know he would be grateful for your help. Besides teaching and having his own practice, he goes into some of the worst parts of London and offers medical care to those less fortunate."

Molly blinked and stared at Sherlock. She could have sworn that she had heard pride and admiration in his voice for John, but that would go against everything that she had seen of Sherlock up to this point. Her mind quickly replayed that horrible meeting with Charles Magnusseen on her wedding day. She was almost certain that she had seen anger in Sherlock's eyes as well as Henry Knight's. But how could that be when both of them claimed to hold the same values as Charles.

"Something on your mind, Molly?" he drawled, smirking at her.

"I find you…confusing at times…" she said slowly as she sat back down at the table.

The smirk fell from his face and he seemed to stiffen as his eyes became aloof. "How so?" he asked.

"You seem to contradict yourself at times," she said softly.

Sherlock sat straighter in his chair and looked at her with the full force of his green eyes. Molly swallowed hard and looked away, flushing. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his brother coming into the dining room.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said in greeting. "Mrs. Holmes," he added, nodding to Molly in greeting. His face became serious. "Sir Charles will be here in a few moments, Sherlock, perhaps you would like to send your wife elsewhere?"

Sherlock stood quickly and glanced at Molly. "Yes, I think I would like to spare her such unpleasantness," he said. "Molly, would you mind waiting in the library for John? I will send him in when he arrives."

She looked back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft with a confused expression. Why should they wish to spare her the company of that wretched man, Charles?

"Go to the library," Sherlock repeated more firmly. This time she obeyed him and left without a backward glance.

"She suspects," Mycroft said when she was gone.

Sherlock shook his head. "No she doesn't," he said. "She thinks I'm a monster."

"And I am telling you that she suspects," Mycroft argued. "She is a clever girl, much more so than I gave her credit for."

Sherlock's gaze hardened. "I treat her badly enough," he snapped. "I'm not going to treat her worse."

"I am not suggesting that you do," Mycroft said. "But should she figure out that you are in fact, a good man, you had better make sure that she can be trusted or all that we have worked for will be for nothing."

"I trust her," Sherlock said defensively. "She is a good and kind woman. She loves and cares very deeply. Why else do you think she would put herself into a situation like this, if she did not? She's doing this for her family and to me…that shows a great deal of courage and fortitude."

Mycroft's brow rose. "Then perhaps I was mistaken is suggesting that you keep her in the dark," he said. "Perhaps she would be more useful as an active ally."

Sherlock shook his head. "I want to keep her safe," he said. "I don't want her in harm's way by allowing her to become involved in this."

"Perhaps you should offer her the choice," Mycroft said.

Sherlock's lips quirked. "You would allow your woman the choice?"

"Of course not," Mycroft said. "I would do what is necessary to protect her and she would be expected to accept that. But you, brother, are not me. You are more modern in your thought processes than I am. If you trust this woman, than by all means, bring her in. I am sure that you will be able to protect her from any harm and if you are in doubt, always know that I will offer whatever assistance that I can in keeping the ones you care for safe."

"I wouldn't say that I cared for her," Sherlock said suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I barely know her."

"And yet you wanted to marry her," Mycroft said. "If you recall, that was your suggestion, little brother, not mine."

The door to the dining room opened and Sherlock's butler entered holding a silver tray with an announcement card. "Sir, a Sir Charles Magnusseen to see you."

""Show him in, Leonard," Sherlock said.

* * *

Molly made her way down the upstairs hallway to Sherlock's bedroom. She looked around to make sure none of the servants were anywhere to be seen and opened the door, going inside. She shut the door behind her and quickly surveyed the room, noticing immediately the other door that was on the other side of the room. She went to it and tried to open it. It was locked.

"Blast…"she swore under her breath. Reaching up, she took a pin from her hair and straightened it, putting it in the key hole. She worked and worked the lock until it clicked, opening the door for her. She walked in quickly and shut the door behind her. She smiled when she realized that the room was Sherlock's private study. Surely she could find something in here that would tell her what was truly going on.

She began to search through the papers on his desk. Finding nothing that she could make sense of, she moved her search to his desk drawers. She had searched through five of the six drawers and found nothing. She sighed, raking her hand through her hair in frustration.

"There has to be something here," she whispered to herself.

She opened the largest and final drawer. She began to search through the papers and the files, trying to find anything that would help her make sense of her suspicions. She pulled the drawer further out and noticed a small lock box in the back of the drawer. She quickly pulled it out and looked at it. She tried to open it, but of course it was locked.

"Blast…" she swore again and began to frantically look for the hair pin that she had used to enter his study. She found it lying on the floor nearby. She worked the pin into the lock and was able to open the small box. She started to look through the private letters and business papers, finding one envelope in particular of interest.

She recognized her grandfather's hand writing and opened the letter. She had read only a few lines, when she gasped in shock. She sat the letter down and searched through more papers, finding one in particular and began reading it.

"What is this?" she whispered. "What does it all mean?"

She sat the paper down and started to reach for her grandfather's letter again when she heard a noise from the other room. She froze and stared at the door, horrified when she heard male voices coming from the bedroom. She quickly shoved the papers back in the box, put the lockbox back and put the other papers back on top of it, closing the drawer. She had barely made it around the desk to stand in front of it when the door was opened.

Sherlock blinked, clearly stunned to see her while Mycroft seemed to have an expression of mild appreciation on his face. Charles stood behind the both of them with smirk on his face. "Well, well, Sherlock," Charles drawled. "It appears your little wife is even naughtier than we all thought. She's broken into your private study and I would make a wager, has just searched through your important papers."

Sherlock looked like a deer caught in headlights and Molly realized that he was trying to formulate how he would react to this situation for Charles' benefit. She did not know why Sherlock could be doing this, but she felt deep down inside of her that it was pivotal that he react in a way that would please Charles.

Mycroft's expression became troubled as well, as if this was truly a horrible situation that Molly had gotten both herself and Sherlock into.

"Molly…" Sherlock began, but Charles cut him off, pushing passed him.

"Allow me, Sherlock," Charles said, looking back at Sherlock. "I think you are lacking experience in the appropriate ways of truly disciplining your wife. If you had whipped her hard enough and long enough before fucking her on your wedding night, I do not think she would dare attempt something as bold as this."

Charles approached Molly. "So little bitch, why are you in your husband's personal study?"

She glanced at Sherlock, trying to read his expression to gage what she should or should not say. It was Mycroft, whose eyes seemed to plead with her.

Molly lifted her chin. "I don't see why I should need to answer to you," she said coldly.

Charles's eyes twinkled in delight. "Indeed?" he asked. He turned to Sherlock. "Bold little bitch, isn't she?" He looked back at Molly. "I asked you a question, you little worthless idiot, why were you in your husband's private study? I doubt you would be intelligent enough to understand anything that you might find in here. Women are such ignorant and stupid creatures, do you not agree Mycroft?"

"Most useless," Mycroft said.

"I wouldn't say useless," Charles went on to say. "They are good for fucking, but that is about the only thing. Oh and keeping up the home for the husband. In fact, I find them to be on the same level of children, only to be seen and not heard. The only time a bitch should ever open her mouth to have a cock inserted for her to suck and swallow."

Molly glanced at Sherlock and Mycroft, both of whom seemed to be pleading with her to remain silent. Her fists clenched tightly.

"Get out, Molly," Sherlock snapped. "I will deal with you later."

She started to walk passed Charles, but he grabbed her by her hair, his fingers digging harshly into her scalp. "I had hoped you would punish her now," he said. "Humiliation is a good way to break the will of your whore, Sherlock."

Charles pulled her close and inhaled her hair. "She smells mouthwatering," he said slowly dragging his tongue up and down her cheek."

"You are disgusting and vile," Molly hissed. "Let go of me!" She screamed, reaching up to his face and scratching his cheek.

He yelped and shoved her away so violently that she hit the desk before hitting the floor. "You fucking cunt…" he shouted. "You vile little piece of filth! Worm! Cunt! Bitch!"

Sherlock moved to Molly quickly and grabbed her arm in a vice grip. He jerked her up from the floor and started towards the door with her.

"I demand satisfaction, Sherlock," Charles said wiping the blood from his cheek. "You invite me into your home and allow this little cunt to draw blood? Are you not the man that I thought you were? Are you a weak and spineless coward who allows his wife to run his household?"

"Of course not," Sherlock snapped. "I will punish her accordingly this evening."

"I want her punished now, damn you," Charles hissed. "And I want to be the one who gives it to her."

"No!" Sherlock shouted, but Mycroft grabbed his arm and silenced him.

"You will forgive my brother, I am sure," Mycroft said. "He is very possessive of his things and would never allow someone else to punish what belongs to him. It would be an insult to him, as if you were saying he was incapable. I am sure that you understand."

Charles seemed to be appeased by this and he nodded. "Of course," he said. "I have other friends who are of the same mindset as Sherlock. They never allow anyone else to whip their whores."

Sherlock turned and began to drag Molly out. Charles too k a step and halted them. "But that does not mean that I do not have the right to witness her punishment," he said. "She insulted me in your home, Sherlock. The little rat insulted me."

"What would satisfy your honor, Sir Charles?" Sherlock asked.

"A crop," Charles said smiling. "To her back, ass, and thighs."

Sherlock swallowed hard and looked at Mycroft. Only Mycroft knew his brother well enough to see the distress within his eyes. "Shall I retrieve your crop, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked softly.

"Yes," Sherlock said in a hard voice.

Mycroft left the room and came back within moments holding a crop. He held it out to Sherlock. "I can't…" Sherlock whispered in desperation.

"You must," Mycroft answered him in a whisper.

Sherlock took the crop and pulled Molly over to his desk. He gripped her arms and stared at her. Tears stung her eyes, but her face was just as determined. Though she was terrified, she was now more convinced than ever that Charles must have some sort of hold over Sherlock and Mycroft or something else was going on in regards to this man.

She could see the distress that Sherlock was in, but she could also see in Mycroft's face just how vital it was that Sherlock convince Charles that he was as horrible as he was.

Molly gave Sherlock a small nod, one that was only noticeable to him. Sherlock shoved her roughly over his desk and moved to stand behind her.

"Not so bold now, is she, eh, Sherlock?" Charles asked with a gleeful tone.

Sherlock swallowed hard and put his mind on the reason for all of this. He thought only of the damage and anguish that this man had caused to countless others and how he must, at all costs be stopped. Sherlock raised the crop and was about to bring it down upon Molly's thigh when the door was pushed open and in walked Sherlock's stoic butler.

Leonard's eyes instantly fell on Molly about to be whipped and the only change in his expression was a single brow rose in question. "I beg pardon sir," he said ignoring the glare from Charles. "But Dr. John Watson has arrived and he is most insistent to see you."

"Sherlock is obviously busy," Charles snapped.

"I am aware, sir," Leonard answered. "But he is most insistent. He seems quite distressed about something sir. If you are not able to see him at the moment, perhaps madam…" his voice trailed off.

Sherlock stared at his butler and swallowed hard. He knew that John Watson was probably not in the least bit distressed. He silently thanked his butler over and over in his mind for the interruption. Sherlock dropped the crop and grabbed Molly's arm, jerking her into a standing position. "Go with him and entertain John," he snapped. "But do not think for one moment your behavior will be forgotten. You will receive ten times more tonight than what you would have received now."

Sherlock shoved Molly roughly at his butler. Leonard gently took her arm. "If you will please come this way, my lady."

Sherlock and Mycroft watched Molly leave with his butler.

Charles sighed his annoyance. "Pity," he said. "I so wanted to witness that ass being striped with welts. Ah well, I suppose that we had better discuss what I came to discuss then."

* * *

Molly trembled as she walked and Leonard kept a steadying hand on her. She glanced up at him as they walked. "Dr. Watson…is he really distressed?" she asked softly.

"I have no idea, madam," Leonard replied. "Dr. Watson has not called as of yet."

"What?" she asked incredulous. "Then why…"

Molly was interrupted as Mrs. Hudson came rushing forward from the kitchen. "Oh Lord…" she cried. "Please, child, tell me that we were in time to stop that atrocity from happening to you." She pulled the shaking Molly into her arms.

"What?" Molly asked breathlessly. "I…I don't understand?"

"Mr. Mycroft, madam," Leonard said. "He informed Mrs. Hudson of what his younger brother was about to be forced to do and asked if anything could be done to intervene. Mrs. Hudson called to me and I came into the young sir's study. I dislike lying naturally, but unfortunately, it is the only cause I could think of under such short notice to remove you safely from the room."

Molly blinked several times as she looked back and forth between Mrs. Hudson and Leonard. "Are you telling me that Sherlock did not want to hurt me?" she asked softly.

Mrs. Hudson's eyes filled with tears. "Please, dear, don't ask any questions," she pleaded. "It is better that you know as little as possible. Just know that things are not always as they appear in this household."

Molly shook her head. "I saw documents in Sherlock's lock box," she said. "I read them and they said…"

"I am afraid that we are not at liberty to discuss Mr. Holmes's business, madam," Leonard said. "Not even with his wife. Now I am afraid that I must see you to your room and lock you in."

"Why do I need to be locked in?" she asked.

"Because Mr. Mycroft does not trust that you can stay out of trouble and were Sir Charles to come down and see you here when you are supposed to be entertaining Dr. Watson…." He let his words trail.

* * *

Molly paced in her room as she waited for someone to come and unlock the door for her. Her mind was reeling from what all that had occurred that day and from what she had discovered locked away in Sherlock's study. Finally, when she felt she might scream from frustration and exasperation, she heard the lock click on her door.

She quickly ran to it and tore it open. Leonard was standing in the hallway. "Where is Sherlock?" Molly demanded.

"I am afraid he is not feeling well this evening," Leonard said. "He has retired early." He turned without another word and left her standing in the hallway. Molly turned to look at her husband's bedroom door and her eyes narrowed. She would get to the bottom of this and it would be tonight.

She marched over to his bedroom door and turned the knob. It was unlocked and she walked in without knocking. She looked around the room and did not see him, but quickly turned her head when she heard a noise coming from the master bathroom.

"Sherlock," she called out walking quickly to the door. "Are you in there?"

"Go away," Sherlock shouted before a fit of coughs overtook him.

She heard him begin to vomit. "Sherlock, are you alright?" she asked, turning the knob.

"Don't come in," he managed to gasp out before vomiting again. She shoved the door open and saw him on his knees clutching the toilet.

"Sherlock!" she cried in concern and dropped down beside him. "What's wrong? Why are you ill?"

"Something I ate," he mumbled miserably.

Molly stood quickly and wet a cloth in the sink before dropping down beside him again. She placed the cold rag on the back of his neck and gently stroked his hair. "Sherlock?"

He turned to look at her before sliding down onto his backside. He pulled the lid down on the toilet and flushed. "I think it has passed," he said softly.

"You need to drink some water," she said worriedly, standing again. She got him a cup of water and sat back down beside him, putting the cup to his lips. "Sip," she commanded. He did as she told him, taking small sips of the cool water. It helped instantly, soothing his upset stomach. She put the cold rag to his head. "What on Earth did you eat?"

"What?" he asked. "Nothing…I haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

"But you said you ate something bad…"

He looked at her and frowned, realizing his mistake. He pressed the cool rag into his face, hoping she would drop the matter.

"Sherlock, why are you sick?" she pressed him.

"Why would you care?" he asked. His voice muffled by the cloth. "I have been terrible to you."

She took hold of the rag and pulled it away from him. She searched his face. "You're sick because of me aren't you? Because of what you nearly had to do today." She said softly.

"Oh God…" he said, his head rolling back and hitting the wall. "I've never laid my hands on a woman in violence…my mother would be appauled…my father…I don't even want to think what he would think of me."

"Sherlock, what is going on?"

"I am sorry…" he said. "Please know that I didn't want too…I would never hurt you like that…I am so sorry, but he has to think…"Sherlock shook his head, turning his face away from her.

"He has to think what?" she pressed.

"I've already said too much," he said, still refusing to look at her. "Molly, just know that I mean you no harm, really, no matter what I say and do to you. And I will say horrible things to you and threaten you with violence, but…I won't touch you. But you must ask me no more questions and you cannot go searching through my things."

"I want to know what is going on," she said.

"It is too dangerous," he said. "I can't involve you anymore than you already are."

"Sherlock, tell me..."

"No!" he shouted, rising from the floor. "I thank you for your kindness, it is more than I deserve, but you must go back to your room now."

Molly stood and stared up at him. "Why can't you…"

"I have said all that I will say on the matter," he snapped. He took hold of her arm and led her from the bathroom. "Now, please, I need to lie down and you need to return to your room. I will call down and have Mrs. Hudson bring your something to eat."

She stared at him hard, her eyes narrowing and she jerked her arm away from him.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Don't make me have to carry you, Molly," he said. "While I would greatly enjoy having you in my arms, I do not think you would find it as enjoyable."

"You're not a wicked man at all, are you?" she asked stubbornly. "I saw the papers in your lockbox. I know that my grandfather's business is fine and that his finances are being hidden by your brother. Now I demand to know why?"

He shrugged. "I did warn you," he said before swinging her up into his arms.

"Sherlock put me down!" she shrieked. As he carried her out into the hallway, they were met by the amused expression of Mycroft Holmes.

"Ah, wedded bliss," he drolled. "Sherlock can you please put your wife someplace where she will cease to be in everyone's hair? We have urgent matters to discuss, if you feel up to it."

"I have a right to know what is going on," she shouted indignantly as Sherlock carried her across the hallway.

"Yes well, sometimes life just isn't fair is it, Mrs. Holmes?" Mycroft asked clearly amused by her attempts to squirm free of her husband's hold. Sherlock sat her down on her feet in her room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Molly banged loudly. "Let me out! You can't keep me locked in here!" she shouted.

Mycroft chuckled. "She's so full of passion for one that tries to act so cold," he remarked. "Perhaps all there needs to be is a merging of your fire stick into her icecap…"

Sherlock's face scrunched in distaste. "Please never, ever, use a metaphor like that again."

* * *

**Whew...that was a long one! I hope you all enjoyed this one! Thanks so much! Hugs and love to all of you!**


End file.
